Unexpected Saviors
by Beastbot X
Summary: Atlas and Company arrive on Earth and meet up with Rhinox, but they're being followed by another spacecraft... Nineteenth in my Beast Wars series.


"Unexpected Saviors"

"Woah. THAT'S Earth? The landmasses don't look right…"

"Earth has a series of tectonic plates that make up the planet's crust, Hot Shot," Bulkhead told the youngest member of the group. "The plates shift slowly, and over millions of stellar cycles, the continents and oceans appear to move. We've traveled nearly two million Earth years back in time, so that's why the surface looks so different."

"That's… really weird," Hot Shot responded, his face still pressed against the glass as he gazed out of the spaceship at the magnificent green-and-blue planet.

"Hot Shot, quit staring and man the consoles," Atlas ordered. "We're going to be entering the planet's atmosphere soon, so I'll need everyone strapped down and ready to take orders at any moment."

"Oh… sorry, boss," Hot Shot said sheepishly, prying his face away from the bridge window and sitting down at a side console.

"This is so COOL!" Landmine said giddily. "I've never BEEN to another planet before!"

"It's not as awesome as you'd think," Bulkhead grunted. "I've been to Earth before, a few decades before its inhabitants kicked us out in 2158 for causing too much peripheral damage during our battles there. Can't say I blamed them—I was surprised it hadn't happened sooner, in fact. But anyway, the gravity's a little stronger on Earth than on Cybertron, and it takes some definite gettin' used to. Plus, if you're near a coastline or a desert, dust and sand particles can get in your joints easily, and mess you up big time if you aren't careful."

"Alright 'bots, conversation time is over," Cliffjumper said. "Sensors say we're beginning to get a little wind resistance, so we must be starting to enter the atmosphere. Atlas, what're your orders?"

"Bulkhead, keep the ship aimed at the position I told you to earlier—the last thing we need is to come out of re-entry and be a thousand klicks away from our target. Hot Shot, engage the heat shield…"

* * *

"Rhinox! Come quickly, this is huge!"

"What, what is it?" Rhinox said, wheeling over to the display screens in the main room of the Maximal base. A feeling of dread started to well up inside Rhinox… _The Vexorans are here already?..._ But he breathed a sigh of relief after he saw what was up on the screens.

"Our sensors have just picked up a spacecraft entering the atmosphere," K-9 said excitedly, typing away at the console to bring up various sensory images of the object. "Given it's current path of re-entry, it should land within a few klicks of here… and best of all, it's sending out a Maximal code-encrypted message… lessee, I'm decoding it now…. It says, 'Help is on the way.' Rhinox, it looks like that communications array Taran and the others set up a few weeks ago worked!"

"And not a moment too soon," Rhinox said, genuinely smiling for the first time in several months. "We need to get Scourge and his minions rounded up ASAP and take down that communications tower before the Vexorans get their message! If they haven't already…"

"I'll send a 'greetings' message back." K-9 said.

"Great. I'll get together a party to meet them. K-9, where they going to land?"

"If they keep on their current track… Grid Scavos."

"Excellent, that's not far away at all. This could be the end of the Beast Wars, K-9!"

"I certainly hope so, sir…"

* * *

"What is the problem, Mirage?" Obsidian said as he entered the communications room of the Vehicons' outpost.

"Sensors detect spacecraft entering atmosphere. Hailing frequency: Maximal. Strong possibility of Maximal reinforcements from Cybertron."

"Slag!" Obsidian cursed. "That transmission must have gotten through. I am not sure why a group of Maximals arrived before any Predacons did, but no matter. Lord Scourge shall obliterate the whole lot of them easily."

Turning on his comlink, Obsidian spoke into it. "Lord Scourge, this is Obsidian. We have located on our scanners an incoming Maximal ship. Would you have us leave our post to engage it, or will you send out a Predacon force yourself?"

Obsidian listened for an answer, but all that emitted from his comlink was static.

"Lord Scourge?" Obsidian repeated. "Lord Scourge, are you there? This is urgent."

After a few more seconds of static, Obsidian shut his comlink off. "Odd… Lord Scourge has always kept his comlink active since we established this outpost. It must be energon interference, or the Maximals are somehow blocking our communications. Mirage, get over to the Predacon base as fast as you can. Find out what Lord Scourge wants. I will keep an optic on the sensors."

"Affirmative," Mirage droned, standing up and saluting before running out of the room.

* * *

"Ugh, I hate transwarp space…" Barricade said, stumbling over to his chair and sitting down in it. "It always takes me a couple of cycles to overcome the queasiness."

"Aw, poor baby," Slugslinger smirked. "You wanna thermos of warm energon too, mate?"

"Shut up," Barricade said, glaring at the jet-bot.

"Make me," Slugslinger grinned, standing up from his chair and walking the short distance across the bridge to Barricade's seat.

"Barricade, I will remind you that you are under our command for this mission," Dreadwing said from the front of the bridge, without looking away from his console screen. Dreadwing's incredibly deep voice had a slight echo to it, and his purple optics were so bright that Barricade thought at times they would burst into flames. As such, the Pred really creeped Barricade out. "And Slugslinger, sit down. Shockwave ordered us to keep Barricade in one piece."

"Ah, yer no fun…" Slugslinger grumbled, but complied.

"Barricade, disengage the engines," Dreadwing ordered. "Do it slowly so we don't drift forward very fast. Slugslinger, make sure the front thrusters counterbalance the inertia enough to keep us stable by the time the rear thrusters are deactivated completely."

"Gotcha, mate."

"Affirma—wait, what?" Barricade said, stopping in mid-sentence and swiveling around in his chair to face Dreadwing. "We've traveled all the way to prehistoric Earth, aren't we going to land on it?"

"If we did so, the Maximals and Predacons on Earth would likely detect our ship as soon as it enters the atmosphere," Dreadwing replied, his face still fixed on the console screen in front of him as he typed in commands. "Our mission is primarily stealth reconnaissance. Slugslinger, after we stop, I will fly down and see what the situation is down there. If everything is clear, and there is not any advanced scanning equipment that I can spot, then we will land. Their sensors may detect a spaceship, but they cannot be strong enough to detect a single Transformer at such a distance."

"Are you insane?" Barricade said, exasperated, as Dreadwing got up and started to make his way towards the rear of the ship where the airlock was. "You'd burn up a long time before you'd land—the atmosphere of Earth is a lot denser than Cybertron's!"

"Don't be stupid, mate," Slugslinger said as Dreadwing left the bridge. "Haven't ya noticed? Dreadwing isn't any ol' Transformer."

"Well, he gives me the creeps, but other than that—"

"Oh, for Primus' sake… he's Unicron spawn, you bloomin' idiot. You didn't notice the arcane symbols on his chassis? Or how abnormally bright his optics 're?"

"Wait… h-he's Unicron spawn? Then what's he doing working for Shockwave?"

"Eh, I think he defected after Unicron's body was destroyed, or some such. Dunno, never bothered to ask Shockwave m'self. Wasn't my place, mate. You still need t'learn yours, apparent—"

Slugslinger stopped in mid-sentence as Dreadwing, in his flying boat mode, zoomed out in front of the spaceship, flying towards the Earth at an incredible speed.

"Slugslinger to Dread, you made sure not to forget the long-range comlink or nothin'?"

"Of course," came back the voice from the other end of the comlink. "I'll contact you within two megacycles."

"Will do, Dread," Slugslinger said. "Slugslinger out."

As Barricade watched in amazement, a dark purple, flame-like aura suddenly engulfed Dreadwing, and after a few seconds of flickering, the wavy substance solidified into a translucent purple force field. Now protected from any heat resistance he might face, Dreadwing flew into the Earth's atmosphere, his purple shield starting to glow red at the front end.

* * *

"So, this is Earth…" Hot Shot said, walking slowly out of the ship, only to stumble into the dirt face-first. "Ugh… yeah, I'm going to need to recalibrate my servos for this…"

"Eh, you'll get used to it soon enough," Bulkhead smirked as he walked out of the ship with the rest of the crew.

"Ah. Welcoming party's already here," Atlas said, motioning to the small group of beast-bots standing in front of them.

"Greetings, fellow Maximals," said an odd-looking robot at the front of the body with a… was that as monitor for a head? "I am Rhinox. You've come at a dire time— we all thank you wholeheartedly for your assistance. When are the rest of the reinforcements coming, may I ask?"

"Er… rest of the… reinforcements?" Atlas questioned, glancing to his other teammates, who merely shrugged in response.

"Uh… yes, the rest of the reinforcements…" Rhinox said, also confused. "You got our SOS, correct? We are facing a vast Predacon army. As much as your help is appreciated… five Transformers is not enough to easily turn the tide of this war. I was expecting a couple dozen Maximals to help us, at the least…"

"Oh, yeah, that," Bulkhead sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Well, the situation on Cybertron's changed a bit since you 'bots left…"

"We're at war again with the Preds," Hot Shot said, dusting himself off. "The Maximals are stretched thin enough as is. We were all the Council of Elders could send."

"I see," Rhinox said, frowning. "Still, thank you for your help. We are in need of having a certain installation destroyed—it is broadcasting a signal that could put this entire planet in danger, as well as Cybertron itself. What are your names? I'm trying to put together a plan, but I'll need to know your strengths first."

"Oh, sure," Atlas said, stepping forward. "I'm Atlas, the commander of this team. We specialize in hitting Preds hard 'n fast, though we can do it by more subtle means if need be. This is Bulkhead, specializing in support firepower; Cliffjumper, reconnaissance; Hot Shot, our team's sniper; and Landmine, our melee combat expert."

"Ah, I can see that the Elders chose wisely," Rhinox said, smiling. "You definitely make up a well-rounded team."

"That we do," Atlas replied.

"Well, as I said before, I'm Rhinox. I had an… accident several months ago, which is why I look as I currently do. With me are Cybershark, Nighteye, and Grimlock—"

"Woah, THE Grimlock!" Hot Shot blurted out.

"No," Grimlock replied sadly. "Me Grimlock been told me only clone."

"Long story," Cybershark said, smirking. "Say, how come you guys don't have beast modes like the rest of us?"

"Recent technology upgrade," Cliffjumper answered. "About a stellar cycle after you guys went missing, all Cybertronians got energon-resistance chips installed. High concentrations of Energon, provided they're outside our bodies and not ingested, don't bother us anymore."

"Regardless, we'd best start planning," Rhinox said. "We may have already passed our 'deadline' as is. Nighteye and I will fill you in on the situation as we head back to our base…"

* * *

"Obsidian, request permission to speak!" Blastcharge yelled in his usual military manner as he marched into the outpost's main control room.

"Permission granted, Blastcharge," Obsidian said, turning around from his work. "Any news from Mirage?"

"He just arrived, sir!" Blastcharge said, saluting. "He was not able to find Scourge!"

"What?" Obsidian said, his optics widening. "You're sure Mirage checked everywhere on the ship?"

"He assures me he did, sir!"  
"What about Scarem?" Obsidian asked. "Was Mirage at least able to find him?"  
"Mirage could find no trace of Scarem either, sir!"

"This is madness," Obsidian grumbled. "Where could they possibly be? We need orders on how to handle this situation!"

"The Preds back at their base aren't taking this news well either, sir," Blastcharge said. "Nobot knows where either of 'em are."

BLAM!

"Grah!" Blastcharge grunted as he was thrown against the far wall as the result of a powerful impact send the base rumbling.

"Vehicons, priority alert!" Spystreak's disembodied voice rang out through the speakers positioned throughout the base. "We are under attack, and by Maximals I do not recognize!"

"Slag!" Obsidian cursed, unaffected by the base's rumbling as he continually hovered in the air. "It must be the inhabitants of that ship—they must have already found and sided with the Maximals here! Blastcharge, with me, quickly! We must repel the attack before they destroy the transmitter!"

* * *

"Yep, got their attention!" Bulkhead yelled, struggling to be heard by his teammates over the heavy fire of his backpack arsenal. "Let's do this, guys!"

"Positions, everyone!" Atlas ordered his troops, taking to the air as Obsidian and Blastcharge ran/hovered out of the base, followed by the rest of the Vehicons.

"You're messing with the wrong 'cons, Maxies!" Blastcharge hollered, before firing a huge cluster of missiles at King Atlas. Atlas managed to dodge most of them, but a few hit him in the left wing. Atlas grunted as he regained his balance in the air, but his wing was smoking.

Hot Shot peeked over the foliage at the edge of the base's clearing and readied his sniper rifle.

"'Take out the guys with the firepower first, Hot Shot'—yeah, he's definitely got the firepower…"

Hot Shot looked into the crosshairs on his rifle and, targeting Blastcharge, fired.

In the midst of the battlefield, Blastcharge suddenly went down, a bullet to the head sending him into stasis lock instantaneously.

Hearing the thump behind him, Obsidian quickly turned around. "What? Mirage, quickly—we have a sniper somewhere! Judging from the direction Blastcharge fell down, he must be southwest from our position!"

"Acknowledged," Mirage droned, teleporting into the foliage nearby.

Hot Shot glanced over to see the Vehicon two feet to the side of him.

"Aw SLAG! You move FAST!"

"Target locked," Mirage said, aiming his arm-mounted missiles at Hot Shot.

Hot Shot rolled to the side as Mirage fired, then quickly did a spinning kick, sending Mirage onto his back. Before Mirage could teleport away, Hot Shot jumped onto the Vehicon, pinning the slightly smaller robot's hands and legs under his.

"Problem is, you're not fast enough," Hot Shot grinned.

"Boasting premature," Mirage droned, teleporting them both into the middle of the battlefield. "Scavenger, assistance needed."

Scavenger, who was only a few feet away absorbing some of Bulkhead's shots, turned back towards the struggling pair.

"Ah, lovely… a new spark to feast upon."

"Boasting premature," Hot Shot parodied, before rolling off of Mirage and sniping another nearby Vehicon—Thrust—in the back of the head, as Thrust was currently firing at a swerving Cliffjumper. The shot sent Thrust into stasis lock as well.

"You're starting to get on my nerves now," Scavenger growled, pouncing on the much-smaller Maximal. Hot Shot struggled to get away, but it was no use. Grabbing Hot Shot by the head, Scavenger began to crush it in his claws—slowly. Hot Shot hissed in pain as his forehead gave way.

"Ugh, déjà vu…" Hot Shot groaned, right before blacking out.

* * *

Meanwhile, a light blue figure watched the battle from a nearby hilltop. Even though he was nearly a mile away, Dreadwing's audio and visual receptors were good enough to pick up everything that was going on in the battlefield.

"Interesting… the Maximals seemed to have come here to deal with a communications array… but why would they destroy the array when it no doubt was responsible for luring them here? Hmm, this certainly needs further investi—huh?"

Dreadwing was interrupted as a message came through on his comlink. It was rather staticky because of the distance involved, but Dreadwing could still make it out.

"Dreadwing, do… over? This is Slugsling… sten, you better get back here quickly, our sensors… massive objects coming…. wormhole!"

"More Transformers?" Dreadwing radioed back.

"….gative… too big for that! Listen, mate, we really…. you back here!"

Sighing, Dreadwing transformed and rocketed back up into the sky. "I'm on my way. This better be important, Slugslinger…"

* * *

"Bulkhead, Hot Shot's out!" Atlas radioed to his partner.

"Well, I kinda got problems of my own!" Bulkhead yelled back. "Nothing's stopping these two behemoths!"

The two "behemoths" Bulkhead was referring to were Strika and Tankorr, who were converging on him slowly, even under the storm of firepower that was being unloaded upon them.

"Then transform and get out of there!" Atlas radioed back, executing a quick dive to elude Spystreak's missiles before leveling out again.

"But then I won't have the firepower to distract them!"

"You won't have your LIFE to distract them in a moment either if you don't do something!"

"Yes, sir," Bulkhead said reluctantly, transforming into helicopter mode and taking off, leaving Tankorr and Strika in the dust below him. They fired a few shots at him, but Bulkhead's vehicle mode could move too suddenly for them to get a decent number of hits on him. Bulkhead fired a few half-hearted blasts back at the two Vehicons, but given that the huge amount of firepower he had unleashed earlier had done little, these blasts did absolutely nothing. A large orange figure suddenly rammed into Tankorr, however, sending both 'bots down to the ground. Landmine laughed and started punching the tank-bot mercilessly, before giving the Vehicon a faceful of missile fire. Tankorr roared in pain as his optics burst from the close-range impact. Strika redirected her fire to Landmine, though Landmine could take direct hits better than anyone else on the team. This freed up Bulkhead to maneuver through the air as he saw fit.

"Good, Landmine's got their attention, now give me a hand here!" Atlas said, swerving left to avoid Obsidian, who was coming straight at the team leader. "It's two to one up here in the skies!"

"Quickly, Spystreak! Intercept Bulkhead!" Obsidian said to his subordinate. "We cannot allow any of the Maximals to get near enough to the satellite array to destroy it!"

Spystreak immediately turned away from Atlas and flew towards Bulkhead, firing missile after missile at the helicopter. Thinking fast, Bulkhead hovered quickly up into a higher altitude, to the point where Spystreak had to suddenly turn upwards to target the helicopter, and even then it was clear he wouldn't be up to Bulkhead's height until he turned past Bulkhead and did another pass.

Of course, this was exactly what Bulkhead wanted. As Spystreak drew closer and closer to being directly under his chassis, Bulkhead grinned inwardly, waiting for the precise moment.

"And…. SEE YA!" Bulkhead said cheerfully as he suddenly released the drone lower half of his helicopter mode.

Unable to turn away in time, Spystreak could only watch in horror as he flew under Bulkhead at the exact moment the blue half of the helicopter crashed onto his back, forcing the small spy plane all the way to the ground and crushing Spystreak upon impact.

"And now for the coup de grace…" Bulkhead said. "Now that Atlas and Obsidian are busy playing tag, I can finish this!"

Leveling his wing missiles at the satellite, Bulkhead fired.

Turning too late, Obsidian barely had time to assess the fact that Spystreak was out of commission before he saw what else was going on.

"NOOO!"

The missiles impacted into the satellite full-force, and the resulting explosion caused the roof to collapse on top of the outpost.

"Good work, Bulkhead!" Atlas said via his comlink. "Now, all we've got to do is grab Hot Shot and… and…"

Bulkhead wondered what had caused Atlas to fall silent all of sudden… but his curiosity ceased as he looked up. An enormous, triangular-shaped object suddenly appeared out of a purple wormhole above the Earth's atmosphere, so big it covered almost the entire sky from horizon to horizon, even though it was hundreds of miles above where the Transformers were currently gathered. All over the battlefield, the online Vehicons and Maximals suddenly stopped fighting, gaping at the huge spaceship that suddenly blotted out the sun, shrouding them all in near-complete darkness.

Bulkhead gulped, a pit of dread quickly building in his digestive chamber.

"We're too late…"

The End


End file.
